Friend or Foe
by Tiffani Kai
Summary: Bruce hasn't been back in Gotham long, but a new face in the city has him on high alert. When not even his best equipment and detective skills can help him determine their true nature, he must go against his better judgement and let the cards fall where they may. But when Bruce can no longer tell which side this mysterious figure is on, he must decide friend or foe?
1. Chapter 1

Two light knocks reverberated through the halls of Wayne Manor, making their way into the library where the graying butler was dusting the shelves. He sat down his dust-covered rag and made his way through the mansion to the front door.

"Yes, may I help you?" he butler answered the door with a smile.

"Hi, um, my car broke down and this was the nearest home. May I use your phone?" A petite, red-haired woman stood before him, fidgeting with her hem of her shirtsleeve.

"Pardon me if I sound rude, but don't you have a cell phone?" he inquired.

"Uh, it died."

"Ah," he responded with a raised eyebrow. "That's very convenient for you, Miss Anderson."

"Excuse me?" the young woman gasped, fear flooding her features as she realized he had seen through her disguise.

"Miss Anderson, this is your third attempt to enter the Wayne Manor in hopes of interviewing Mr. Wayne, and you're not fooling anyone with that wig. I'm sorry, miss, but Master Wayne isn't taking part in any interviews at this time. Good day."

* * *

"I'm ruined!" The chief editor of Gotham Times cried out, tugging on his hair and slamming his head on to his desk. All he needed was a statement from Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy who had returned from the dead, and not even his best journalist could acquire it.

A knock sounded on his door, a groan escaped his lips, "Go away!"

There was a moment of silence before a file folder was dropped on his desk. Lazily, he moved his head to stare at the folder. He picked it up, scanning the contents, before looking up at the owner. A tall, strong-looking, brunette woman with bright blue eyes stood before him.

"I understand you are in need of an interview with Mr. Wayne." She spoke up, not waiting for him to address her.

"Indeed I am. Who are you? And what makes you think you are capable of getting this interview?" He opened the file folder, once more, and took notice of the impressive resumé.

"My name is Jennifer Young and I am a journalist from New York. As you can see, I've worked for a multitude of magazines and newspapers throughout the country, some highly regarded and recognizable, others more localized. Mr. Jones," the woman glanced down at the nameplate on his desk, "I am more than capable of obtaining an interview and producing a front-page worthy article on Mr. Wayne. I must ask, though, can you afford me?"

Mr. Jones squinted his eyes and sat back in his chair, surveying the woman, "Miss Young, you won't receive a payment until after you have submitted an article. I won't know how much you, or the article, are worth until I've read this 'front-page worthy' article."

"I will submit a starter article, in order for you to become more familiar with my work, by the end of the week. You should know that I _will_ be expecting a minimum of two-hundred dollars for this article." She nodded at the man and made her way to the door.

"You're very confident, Miss Young. I hope you handle disappointment well," he smirked, taking a gander at her backside.

She turned back, "I don't take no for an answer."

* * *

An incessant pounding on the front door brought Bruce Wayne from a quiet slumber and back to reality. Sunlight flooded the room through the light white curtains, revealing how late in the day he'd slept in. His new nightly activities were interfering with any sleep schedule he could consider. Sitting up in his bed, he could hear Alfred going to the front door, the muffled sound of him answering and speaking with someone. The front door shut a few moments later, but this time Bruce could here a second set of footsteps.

"High heels," he muttered to himself, his mind immediately going to Rachel. He hadn't been back in Gotham long, and the people knew he was back for even less time. The thought of seeing Rachel again brought a smile to his face and a nervous feeling settling in his stomach. He put on his robe and left his room in a hurry. Following the sound of Alfred's voice, he made his way through the house and ended up in the kitchen. Bruce stayed in the adjacent room, unseen, and listened in on the conversation.

"I've worked for the Wayne family for many years, since before Master Bruce was born." Alfred's voice was full of pride and sadness, "When the boy's parents were killed, I became his guardian, raising as I believed his parents would've wanted."

"That's very kind of you. Did you feel that it was demanded of you, or was it something you wanted to do?" A woman's voice, not Rachel's, questioned Alfred.

Bruce scrunched his eyebrows together as his mind processed what was happening in the next room. Was Alfred being interviewed?

"Miss Wise," Alfred began.

"Chloe," the woman interrupted.

Alfred let out a breathy laugh, "Miss Chloe, Master Wayne is like a son to me. I care very deeply for him. It wasn't demanded of me, it was something I knew I needed to do. It was my duty, and I was willing to do it."

"Was there ever a time you regretted your decision? I mean… you must have a family outside of Mr. Wayne. Did you ever wish to leave Gotham and go to them?"

Bruce's breathing hitched. Did he really want to hear Alfred's answer?

"Mr. Pennyworth, I'm sorry to interrupt you again, but I don't believe we are alone."

Bruce stood up straighter; he had almost forgotten what it felt like to get caught. Pushing aside his childish feelings, he entered the kitchen.

"Ah, good morning, Master Wayne," Alfred greeted him with a warm smile.

"Morning, Alfred. Who's your friend?"

"Master Wayne, this is Miss Chloe Wise, she's a new journalist for the Gotham Times. She's here interviewing _me_."

"Is that so?" Bruce nodded, surveying the woman, taking note of the way she held herself and her perfect posture.

"Mister Wayne, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Chloe," the young woman extended a slender, toned arm toward him and took his hand in a firm grasp.

"Well, Chloe," he smirked and turned his hand over to kiss the back of her's, staring into her bright blue eyes, "the pleasure is all mine."

Rather than the usual giggle and batting of eyes he received, Chloe smiled and quickly returned her attention to Alfred, brushing a strand of her long blonde hair from her face.

"Well, I do believe I've wasted enough of your time this morning. I'd love to meet with you again to continue our interview, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience."

Alfred helped the woman pack her belongings back into her satchel, "It's been an absolute joy chatting with you, my dear. I do look forward to speaking with you again."

"Here, Alfred, I'll show her to the door," Bruce smiled, putting a hand on the small of her back.

"Oh," she jumped at the touch. "Well, thank you."

Bruce led her out to the foyer, opening the door for her.

Chloe smirked at him and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning toward him. "It's so nice to meet a fellow member of the League of Shadows," she whispered.

Bruce stiffened, a slight panicked feeling going through him. "I- I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You and I have much in common. I'll see you soon," she winked and walked out the door, leaving him frozen with shock.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Just to clear up some confusion real quick, the first woman in the previous chapter, Miss Anderson, isn't important. She was just another reporter from Gotham Times trying to get an interview, the mention of the wig was to imply that she's been trying for a while. The other two women are important to the plot and will be further explained in this chapter. Also, this chapter is out a lot earlier than I will normally. This has had a much better turn out than I expected, considering this is the first thing I've put up since hiatus. So thank you much to all who read and reviewed, without you I wouldn't have put this up so soon. :)

* * *

Bruce paced the hall of the foyer, had the League of Shadows found him? Were they already in Gotham? No, they couldn't be, he destroyed their temple, their leader had died. No, this was the work of a disgruntled member, out for revenge; it had to be.

"Master Wayne?" Alfred's voice pulled Bruce out of his thoughts, "I've put a kettle on for your tea, is everything alright?"

"Yes, Alfred, of course, nothing to concern yourself over." Bruce smiled and walked past him, back to the kitchen. "Did you get the paper this morning?"

Alfred watched Bruce hustle past him, taking note of his sudden urgency and quickness to brush off any worries. He followed suit to the kitchen to make Bruce his tea and grab the paper from the counter, Miss Chloe had brought it in with her. Alfred thought back to his interaction with her, and how charming she was.

* * *

" _Good morning, you must be Mr. Pennyworth. I'm Chloe Wise with the Gotham Times, and before you shut the door on me, I'm not here to speak to Mr. Wayne."_

" _Oh? Then might I ask what a journalist from the Gotham Times is doing here, especially one as driven and determined as you appear to be?"_

" _I'd like to interview you, if that wouldn't be such a bother." Chloe smiled from ear to ear, and bounced lightly on her toes._

 _Seeing that action took Alfred back to another time, a time when Bruce and his childhood friend, Rachel, were young. An air of innocence surrounded the young woman, reminding him so much of Rachel._

" _Well, I suppose a quick interview couldn't hurt," Alfred smiled back and welcomed the woman in to the mansion._

" _Thank you so very much, it means a lot to me," Chloe walked through the front door and took in the entirety of the home; just the foyer alone was larger than any home where she'd ever lived. "Mr. Pennyworth, your home is so beautiful, how do you keep it so pristine?"_

 _Alfred laughed to himself, "Ms. Wise, I've had years of experience cleaning this home. Besides, when it's needed most I have a small staff to help, handpicked by yours truly. Master Wayne puts on fantastic parties, there's no way I could clean those up alone; he nearly burns the place to the ground, figuratively speaking of course. We've never had a big house fire in the years I've been here, and I'd like to keep it that way."_

" _Oh I'd imagine so. I'd be a shame to damage any bit of this home, the beauty of the grounds and every thing is just so breathtaking."_

" _Indeed it is miss, now why don't we have a seat in the kitchen. Would you like a cup of tea?" Alfred held the kettle up, preparing to put it on to boil, "I've got any tea you could want and just about anything you could want to put in it. I like to always keep a well stocked kitchen, you never know who might stop in. I, myself, quite like a nice cup of Earl Grey at this hour."_

" _I'd love a cup of black tea with some lemon and honey, if it's not too much trouble," Chloe smiled up at Alfred as she sat down, the air of innocence still radiating off of her._

" _Very well Miss Wise, now shall we begin with the questions?"_

" _Yes of course!" She brought out a pen and notepad from her bag. "Would you mind if I recorded our conversation?"_

" _I suppose that's fine, can't hurt any right?" Alfred moved expertly around the kitchen, not skipping a beat when answering._

 _Chloe sat the recorder on the table and began recording. "Alright, if you could please state your name for the record."_

" _Alfred Pennyworth."_

" _Alright Mr. Pennyworth, let's start with something simple, how long have you worked for the Wayne family?"_

 _Alfred sat down at the table with the cups of tea in hand, "I've worked for the Wayne family for many years, since before Master Bruce was born…."_

* * *

"Alfred, did you get Ms. Wise's number?" Bruce walked back out of the kitchen before Alfred had even made it to the door.

"No, sir, I don't believe I did. She works for the Gotham Times, so I suppose we could contact them to get contact her."

"No, no, that's alright. Just be sure to get it if she calls on you again." Bruce made his way out to the courtyard; he had to test his new cowl before his first, big debut this evening.

As he exited the house, he caught site of a trail of petals. The familiar blue petals were bright in contrast to the dull green of the lawn. He swore he could smell that all too familiar aroma as fear arose within him.

He followed the trail to the small tool shed in the back; tacked to the door was a folded piece of paper and a blue double-bloomed poppy. Bruce checked around the immediate area, ensuring that he was alone before taking the note down.

 _Fear not Bruce, I am not the enemy. There is a bigger war occurring than you realize. You may feel prepared, but you are not. When the time is right, I will aid your reckless endeavor. You won't see me; you won't hear me; but you'll know when I've been there. Do not let Fear take you over, for that is the true enemy. Good luck tonight, I'll be watching._

* * *

"Master Wayne, you seem awfully distracted. Are you worried for this evening? You know, you don't have to do this," Alfred looked on at Bruce as he fiddled with his suit. Worry was eminent on both their features.

"I do have to do this. It's become more apparent to me than ever. Gotham needs to be saved, I won't let it fall." Bruce starred ahead, his eyes fixed on his cowl. "There's no turning back from here."

"Yes there is. This isn't the end for you; there's much more out there other than Batman. There will come a day when all this is no longer necessary."

"And until that day comes, whenever it may be, I'll be here in Gotham to protect it from the evils that try to hurt it."

"Well if that's your stance on it…" Alfred trailed off, not yet giving up on this argument but deciding to save it for another day. "Well, shall we prepare? Also, let me remind you again that this cowl is not properly fit for impact, so please be careful."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, the holidays were a bit hectic and time just got away from me.

* * *

As Bruce made his way out in to the night, a Shadow crept along behind him. It was a cool night and the air was a bit harsh as he glided through the night for the first time. The city below him was mostly empty, just a few people here or there, hustling to get off the streets at this hour. The Shadow moved from rooftop to rooftop, struggling to keep up with Bruce's glide, making a mental note to look in to his techniques and equipment.

The duo made their way to the docks, where the storage yard was being used after hours. Bruce took his place on the rooftops directly above the yard, watching over the scene. The Shadow perched on a higher landing just above, keeping eyes on Bruce. Taking note of Falcone resting in his car, he swooped in to the scene and began his night.

One by one, the vigilante took out the henchmen, striking great fear in to each of them. He swooped in and out of the storage crates, hearing them struggle to find him, one even shooting at him, unsuccessfully of course.

The Shadow watched on, trying to stay as close as possible without being noticed; continuing to move closer, watching Bruce as he surveyed the small group of men huddled in the center of the storage yard. A car door shut, drawing the Shadow's attention away from the fight. Creeping closer to the car, Falcone came in to sight; his figure walked timidly toward the chaos inside the yard. The Shadow ran towards his car, dropping from the roof and landing next to the car. Without a sound the Shadow opened door to the backseat and slid inside.

"Everything alright out there Mr. Falcone?" The driver turned, but noticed no one, "Hmph, must not have shut it all the way."

The Shadow quickly maneuvered her way around the driver, quickly incapacitating him and retreating from the vehicle barely in time for Falcone's quick return. His breathing was deep and it seemed he was holding back a shout.

The Shadow made haste to a dark corner of the storage yard; watching on as Falcone discovered his unconscious driver and truly began to panic.

In the blink of an eye Bruce dropped down on top of the car and was yanking Falcone out through the sunroof.

"Who the Hell are you?!" The Shadow couldn't see his face, but by the sound of his voice, Falcone was terrified.

"I'm Batman," Bruce growled.

The Shadow looked on with a smirk, holding back a laugh at Bruce's expense.

"He's good," she thought. "Better than I anticipated."

The Shadow crept closer towards the edge of the building, wanting a better view as Bruce strung up the crime boss to the fog light. He tore the coat just enough to create a bat like figure, showing Gotham his symbol.

He grappled away when the work was done, and the Shadow followed closely, unbeknown to him. It was a long first night and his adrenaline was running high.

The Shadow followed as he made his way to the subway station. Bruce seemed more in a hurry this time than he was earlier, making it almost impossible for the Shadow to keep up. She only caught up once he had stopped, perching above a train car that had just stopped. A young woman exited the car, followed closely by a sight made her shiver, worry drenched over her and she made her way closer, yet staying well out of sight of Bruce or anyone else for that matter. She moved to the rafters above, watching Bruce scare off the man and begin talking to the woman. Deciding to take her own route, she left Bruce and followed the fleeing man. In no time she was caught up to him, finding him cowering behind a half-wall.

"That big Bat may have let you go, but I'm not so quick to forgive," she cooed.

He scurried away from her as she rounded the corner, "What's your deal? What's with the costumes?"

"Hush little one, time for you to sleep and enjoy the shadows of the night," she grinned and set in on the man. Eagerly and skillfully knocking him unconscious and displaying him in one of the open display cases. She stood back to survey her work, " _Enjoy the shadows of the night_? I've really gotta figure out some one liners, I bet Bruce practices those all the time." She laughed and set back off in to the night, heading back to Wayne Manor.

Bruce fell in to a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillows. A light breeze blew across him from his open window, cooling the room to just the right temperature. He slept peacefully that night, undisturbed by dreams or nightmares. His deep sleep was perfect for the Shadow watching from the corner of the room. It was on official Wayne parchment that she wrote out another note for the vigilante. He looked so at peace as he rested on his soft sheets. They looked like silk; she knew they were soft and warm, from the little bit she'd sat on the bed. After finishing her note, she folded it up and tucked it in to the edge of the mirror, leaving a lone blue petal inside it.

The Shadow crept through the bedroom, making sure to not disturb anything else. Once at the window, she glanced back once more at the sleeping figure. It's like he was a different person outside of the mask. She wondered to herself what it was like to have a real life; to be able to live somewhere and be someone. But it was too late for her, this was the path she was stuck on, and nothing would change that. No matter how much she desired a home, she was doomed to endless running and hiding, always needing to be steps ahead of her pursuers. She crawled out the window, preparing to run out in to the night, or better yet early morning. The air bit at her skin more this time than when she first went out, perhaps it was knowing she was alone now that made the wind all the more harsher.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Some dialogue is straight from Batman Begins. I take no ownership of that dialogue; all rights go to Batman and associated parties.**

* * *

Alfred began his morning the same way he had for years. He woke around dawn and made no delay in starting the day. After getting washed up and making his bed, he went first to the kitchen, placing a kettle on the stove. The house was quiet, but cozy. Everything was at peace at this hour; it was his few moments to gather himself and prepare a list of everything that needed to be done.

"Let's see..." he muttered to himself, "Master Wayne's birthday is coming up, must get some more done with the party plans…"

The kettle began to squeal, Alfred rose from his seat and quickly prepared a cup of tea and grabbed a jar of biscuits from the cupboard. So many years of this work, everything he did was muscle memory. There was comfort in that for him, knowing everything in the home better than he knew himself; he knew every nook and cranny and what was in it.

He sat back down to continue his list, "I wonder how late Master Bruce will sleep today, can't imagine how late he was out."

Alfred finished his tea and went about his day, roaming the halls and ensuring everything was clean and in its place. Most areas of the house were only used when he did his morning walks, so nothing was really out of place or in need of cleaning. Dusting as he went, the sun soon broke on the horizon, illuminating the halls with a beautiful peach color.

He returned to the foyer and opened the door, like clockwork the paper was at the door. The front-page story showed a picture of the crime boss, Falcone, strung up on the fog light, his coat torn and looking very bat-like.

"The work of Master Bruce, how fitting," Alfred thought to himself. He continued to leaf through the paper, looking for the continuation of the front article. He stopped searching when he noticed another picture, this time it was of a nameless criminal displayed in a glass case at the subway station. This article was separate from the main headline, but still to do with Bruce's adventures from the night before.

 _Work of the Bat? by Jennifer Young_

 _As Gotham slept, a new visitor in town lit up the sky. It seems Gotham has its very own vigilante, in the most theatrical of ways. Though there were no eyewitness reports, the view of a well-known crime boss strung up on a fog light is enough evidence to suggest a citizen has decided enough is enough, daring to stand up and reclaim Gotham. Aside from stringing up the big fish, our vigilante has struck down a low level pawn in the crime game being played in this city. Our hero seems to already be very busy; taking on such feats will create fear in the hearts of the corrupt, thus making their behavior more erratic and desperate. One must wonder if our hero is prepared to take on such a task…_

* * *

The bustle of the city below woke her, not that she could really sleep anyway. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins; it had been quite some time since she had put on the suit and went out in to the night. Bruce brought back the spark that she had been missing for so long. Years of running and hiding had kept her from truly living, out of fear that it would draw too much attention to her.

She tried to always stay at least two steps ahead of them, but the League of Shadows was relentless. But she wasn't alone anymore. Now that she had Bruce, she could finally be safe; that is if he would be willing to open up and work with her. The problem was that first she had to open up and let him in.

She rose from her makeshift bed and went to her closet, moving aside the clothes and revealing the secret compartment. There in a case stood her suit; it was her original League uniform, with a few minor modifications. She had thrown out the mask and replaced it with a long, hooded cloak. She put a hand on the chest piece, running her hand along the textured surface, relishing in the familiarity. Though she hasn't had a true home in many years, this suit was home. The cape's material was soft and smooth, she wrapped it around her hand and contemplated what material Bruce's must be, and how she could get ahold of some. Maybe if she could glide the way he could, it wouldn't be so hard to keep up.

She wanted desperately to visit Wayne Manor, wanting Bruce to confront her about the note. She wanted him to make her open up, then she could finally have a confidant. Then she could finally stop feeling so alone. She checked the clock, it was barely after noon; there was no way Bruce was already up since they were out so late. Needing to kill time, she decided a hot bath would be the best way to clear her mind.

She submerged herself in the steaming water, her muscles relaxing almost immediately. She sank down in to it as low as she could and shut her eyes, letting the quiet of the room surround her; not that it was truly quiet with the bustle outside. She leaned her head on the side of the tub, slowly opening her eyes. The fluorescent lights were already rough on her; she made a mental note to invest in some lamps, maybe a candle or two. She wasn't sure how long she'd be in Gotham, but she figured it'd be long enough to make the place feel a little more like a home. She rose up slightly, noticing the black fabric strewn across the countertop, her mask. In her haste this morning she had forgotten to put her mask back with the rest of the suit. It was an odd sensation, staring into the eyes of the mask, the one she'd donned on so many missions.

She shut her eyes and leaned back in the tub. She felt around the floor for her washcloth, finally grasping it she wet it before placing the cloth over her face, hiding her eyes from the light. Not too long after she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Sunlight flooded the bedroom, immediately waking Bruce from his sleep, "Bats are nocturnal," he groaned and slowly sat up.

"Bats, maybe, but even for you three o'clock is pushing it! The price of leading a double life, I fear."

Alfred sat the tray of Bruce's breakfast down on the side-table, handing him the newspaper.

"Your theatrics made an impression."

"Theatricality and deception are powerful weapons, Alfred; it's a start." Bruce rose from bed, revealing the many bruises on his bare chest, and opened the paper to view the full front-page article.

"If those are to be the first of many injuries, it would be wise to find a suitable excuse." Alfred considered for a moment, "Polo, for instance."

Bruce scowled, "I'm not learning polo, Alfred."

"Strange injuries, a nonexistent social life, these things beg the question of what exactly Bruce Wayne does with his time, and his money."

Bruce finished his smoothie in one big gulp. He rose from his position and stood next to Alfred, "What does someone like me do?" He fell forward into push-ups, going painfully fast.

Alfred watched on, "Drive sports cars, date movie stars, buy things that are not for sale. Who knows, Master Wayne, if you start pretending to have some fun, you might even have a little by accident."

Alfred rose from his chair while Bruce continued, he made his way to the door before turning back, "By the way, there's a second article in the paper. It's of the other display you made last night, quite a good read I must say."

Bruce paused; he only displayed Falcone, nothing else. He stopped the push-ups and stood, reaching for the paper. He read through the front article before leafing through the rest of the paper, stopping when he found the image of the thug that had trailed Rachel displayed at the subway station. He paced the room as he read the article. This wasn't his work, so who was it? He never noticed anyone else. But this journalist, Jennifer Young, perhaps she could answer his question.

He laid the paper down on the bed and shuffled around the room to start getting ready. His attention was drawn to the mirror, where a small piece of paper was folded and tucked in to the corner. When he reached for it, a blue petal fell from the inside. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the flower. Opening the paper, he noticed it was written on his personal stationary.

 _Bruce, last night was fun. By now you should have noticed my work from last night. You're very well trained, and you seem to have the hang of this at this point. But it will get more difficult, and you will need me. We will make a great team when the time comes. I'll see you soon; we have work to do._

She was with him, all night. She was in his room. How was it that Bruce hadn't once noticed her? The League of Shadows had trained them both, yet somehow she had bested him. Bruce wanted answers, and he was going to get them tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce paced the room, racking his brain for any memory of the night before that could give him solace. There had to have been a moment, no matter how brief, that he noticed her. The doorbell rang, pulling him from his thoughts. _Her_. That had to be _her_ at the door. He raced down the stairs, his heart racing. Alfred had only just emerged into the foyer when Bruce shooed him away and yanked the door open.

"Mister Wayne, I didn't expect to meet you at the door," _her_ blue eyes twinkled.

"We need to talk," Bruce grabbed her arm and pulled her to the study.

She laughed at his behavior, "This is all so sudden; we've only just met Mister Wayne."

Bruce slammed the door behind him. "Sit," he commanded, motioning to the couch.

She took her place on the couch and waited, watching Bruce pace the area like a madman. Though by the looks of him, he was. His hair was disheveled and his robe barely covered his bare chest. Through the opening, she could see a few of his bruises, rather large and painful looking. She knew he'd done well last night, but it looked like he'd taken quite a beating.

"Who are you, exactly?" Bruce finally stopped pacing and sat down on the couch across from her.

"Well, I'm just a simple journalist, who moonlights as a former League of Shadows member and follows Batman around at night. Or wait, maybe it's the other way around…" she trailed off.

Bruce grabbed the paper next to him; opening it to the article he'd read this morning, "You did this?"

"He was going to hurt your friend, I let him off with a warning."

"So if you're a journalist, why didn't you cover this story?"

"Who said I didn't?"

"This Jennifer Young says you didn't. Or is that your real name?"

"I have many names, Mister Wayne, many personas. This one, this Chloe character, is the one I've constructed and presented just for you and Alfred. I've learned to take many precautions during my travels. The Jennifer character is for my professional world."

Bruce scowled and rose from the couch, "Why are you so damn cryptic?" He slammed his hands down on the couch she was on, his face was inches away from hers, "What's your connection to the League of Shadows, no funny business, I demand answers."

"I expected more out of the world's greatest detective, not feeling up to a challenge, hm? To make a very long story short, I was a member of the League, but I was cast out and am now in hiding. I've been running for a few years, and now here I am in Gotham. You're the most fun I've had since before this nightmare started, so I'm here to help any way I can in your plan to save Gotham."

"Cast out from the League of Shadows, we have that much in common," Bruce returned to pacing. "I wouldn't be their executioner; what did you do?"

She laughed at his response, making this life on the run appear almost like being a teenager sent to detention. "I sabotaged a plan. They were in the middle of one of their cleanses of a town, and I undermined everything."

"It appears we're on the same side, I suppose," Bruce paced nervously.

"I'm not here to be your partner, if that's concerning you, I'm merely here as a stop along the way. I won't be in town long, I never am. But while I'm here, I'm going to aid in any way I can."

She rose from her seat, moving over to the shelves, running her hands over the books. Bruce kept his eyes on her, watching her every move. Her fingers glided over the spines of each book, stopping on occasion, tilting her head to read the title, and then continuing. The act gave her an air of innocence, but Bruce reminded himself of her training and what she was capable of; she was not to be underestimated.

"You're going to follow me every night, aren't you," Bruce approached her slowly.

"That's the plan, I'll just be there to make sure your plans is go smoothly," she turned, squaring up with him, only a few feet between them.

Tension filled the air, neither truly knowing what to make of the other, much less what to say. Both knew the other had the strength to take the other down, but whether either had the drive to, that was a mystery to them.

"I'll be going back out tonight, will I see you?" Bruce spoke first, needing to break the tension.

"Only if I want you to, I prefer to remain hidden in the shadows."

"Very well. I'll show you to the door then," Bruce made a move to the door, but she put a hand on his arm.

"No need, I know my way out," her fingers drifted across his robe, moving the cloth and revealing more of his bruise-covered chest. "You need to rest, you took quite the beating it seems. Perhaps I should step in and help a bit more this evening."

* * *

Bruce loosened his tie as he hustled through the corridors. His suit was still a bit damp from his "swim" after dinner, but not enough to slow him down. He clicked the keys to open the hidden elevator and briskly entered and began his descent. On the way down he lost his tie and jacket, starting to unbutton his dress shirt. The elevator landed a bit rough, causing him to stubble a bit as he tore his shirt from his body. He took off through the cave, headed to where his suit was tucked away, loosening his belt as he went. He stood before the case and finished disrobing, quickly entering the passcode and taking out the gear.

"That was quite the show you put on," a voice called out to him.

Bruce spun around quickly, looking in every which direction, knowing it was his Shadow.

"Show yourself," he called out, his heart racing.

"I told you, only when I want to, never on your command. So did you and your lady friends enjoy your swim?"

"How did you know-"

"I am everywhere, Bruce, everywhere."

She emerged from a dark corner next to a stalagmite, wearing the all too familiar League uniform, but rather than the headgear, she had a hooded cloak wrapped around her and a small mask on her face. Bruce noticed a number of gadgets on her belt, certainly putting his to shame; he made a mental note to speak with Fox soon about a few new upgrades.

"Go on, finish dressing, can't go out looking indecent," she motioned to the cowl in his case, the only piece left to put on.

Bruce was speechless, but he did as told. He was baffled at how she managed to get in to his hideaway. She approached him, slowly, and placed a hand on his cape. Her fingers slid over the material, he watched as she surveyed the fabric.

"How would one go about acquiring material like this?"

Bruce cleared his throat, feeling a bit shaken. "Fox."

"Excuse me?"

"The applied sciences division at Wayne Industry. He's head of the division, that's where I get everything."

"I'll need to have a word with this Mr. Fox then, I'm sure you can make time to set up a meeting for all of us."

She ran a hand over the chest plate, her index finger tracing the outline of the bat. Chills went up Bruce's spine as she examined his armor.

"Maybe I could inquire about a suit upgrade while we're there."

Bruce reached up and grabbed her wrist; "I'll contact him in the morning. Can you wait that long?"

"I suppose I can be patient," she sighed with a smirk. "Well are we gonna stand around here all night, or are we gonna to head out?"

"You're right, we need to leave." Bruce turned to head out of the cave. He made his way to the exit but stopped short to turn back with a smirk, "Good luck keeping up."

But she wasn't there anymore. Bruce turned in a circle, looking in every direction, she had already vanished in to the night.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Some dialogue is straight from Batman Begins. I take no ownership of that dialogue; all rights go to Batman and associated parties.

* * *

Bruce glided well above the rooftops, keeping an eye out for his Shadow. He knew she was trailing nearby, but he couldn't spot her. He had a full night ahead of him and the last thing he needed was to be distracted looking for her. He raced through the night towards Officer Gordon's home. A meeting with him would start his night and set how the night would go.

On the streets below, the Shadow raced through the alleys and along ledges to allow her enough distance from Bruce keep unseen from him, yet still see his figure flying in the moonlight. His figure began to descend from the sky, landing on the top of a nearby building. She quickly maneuvered her way towards the building, catching sight of two men seeming to be arguing. As she came closer, she recognized the men to be two officers, Flass and Gordon.

"Just saying it's a good thing the case is clear cut, you'll wrap it up easy," Flass took a final swig from a bottle before throwing it in a trashcan.

From his vantage point, Bruce noticed a figure near the trashcan; his Shadow had kept up with him. He resisted all urges to rush up on her and catch her in the act, taking her off guard for once. His focus returned when Gordon started to yell back at Flass.

"You come around here making threats, pretending to be liquored up; tells me you're scared."

"Take care of yourself, pal." As Flass turned his back, Bruce moved down to the nearby fire escape.

Once he was out of earshot, Bruce spoke up, "Trouble?"

Gordon's eyes flashed as he gazed up, a combination of fear and wonder. He let out a huff, "the scum's getting jumpy because you stood up to Falcone."

"It's a start. Your partner was at the docks with Falcone." Batman looked like a statue on the balcony.

"He moonlights as a low-level enforcer."

The Shadow studied Gordon's movements and expressions. His frustration and exhaustion were apparent, but there was a surprising amount of hope behind his eyes. She noticed it once Batman announced himself.

"There was another man, testing the drugs."

Gordon looked surprised, "It wasn't a buy… Why risk opening a package on the docks?"

"Flass knows." Batman was getting tense, the Shadow could tell from him tone.

Gordon shook his head and sighed, "He won't talk"

"He'll talk to me."

Gordon looked up at him, as if really seeing him for the first time. "Commissioner Loeb set up a massive task force to catch you. He thinks you're dangerous."

"What do you think?" Batman growled out, already making his move to leave.

The Shadow stuck behind, keeping a watch on Gordon, she wanted to know what his answer was. He stood slowly and dusted his pants off, not yet noticing the Batman had left.

"I think you're trying to help," the Shadow smiled at his answer. Gordon turned to where Batman had been, "But I've been wrong before."

The Shadow backed away, intending to follow Bruce to his next destination, but he had vanished even from her. She cursed herself for being foolish and started running. She climbed to the rooftops and jumped from building to building. She knew he was going to Flass, but she didn't know where to find him.

She raced through the night, looking down ever alley for either Flass or Bruce. She'd nearly given up and called it a night, when she heard what sounded like Flass' voice. The Shadow turned to the sound, seeing Flass sulking down the adjacent street. Quickly catching up to him, she trailed him until he reached him apartment. She followed him in, smirking to herself at his complete oblivion.

"Fuck that Batman. He'll get his." Flass slurred as he crawled in to bed.

The Shadow stood in the corner of the room, stalking her prey. "But first," her footsteps were silent as she made her voice as commanding as she could, trying to mimic Bruce, "you'll get yours."

On the other side of town, Batman's night wasn't going as smoothly.

Bruce twitched and writhed in the back of the car, thankful Alfred had come to his rescue. The toxin contorted his mind; all he could focus on were the sensations around him. Flashes of reality were keeping him sane. He kept calling out for Alfred, trying desperately to explain to him what he needed. If he could just get a sample of his blood to Fox, then an antidote could be created to help him. His thoughts kept racing, memories resurfaced, images plagued his mind.

 _Her. His Shadow._

Where was she when he needed her? Did she run off? Was she safe?

His thoughts were overwhelming him, pushing him as far as he could, until he finally fell unconscious.

* * *

She stood eagerly at the doorway of Wayne Manor. She was feeling quite satisfied with herself after the events of the night before. She was practically bouncing with joy at the memory. The fear on Flass' face was almost too satisfying. She couldn't wait to tell Bruce all about her night, and find out where he went off to after seeing Gordon.

She checked her watch; she'd been waiting nearly ten minutes. This wasn't like Alfred; he was always so punctual.

"Hello?" She yelled, knocking a bit obnoxiously as her impatience grew.

"Apologies, madam," a handmaid answer, a frantic expression painted on her face. "I'm afraid Mister Wayne isn't taking any visitors today."

"No no, it's okay, he's expecting me. I'm Chloe Wise, you can check with Alfred, he'll vouch for me." She laughed nervously; something was very off about all of this.

"Well, Mister Wayne is a bit under the weather, Alfred specifically said no visitors."

"Under the weather?"

"Yes miss, I do apologize for the inconvenience."

With that the door was abruptly shut in her face. Her suspicion was peaking; she needed answers. She glanced about, ensuring the gardeners were preoccupied before sneaking around to the back of Wayne Manor. This wasn't her first time scaling the building to Bruce's room. With ease she climbed up to the window ledge on the top floor. She tried the window, finding it unlocked and saying a silent prayer of thanks for her luck.

"Bruce?" She announced herself as she slid in to the room.

"Miss Wise?" Alfred's voice startled her.

"Oh, Alfred, hello!" She made no attempt to hide her surprise, she wasn't used to being caught. "I was just checking to see how Bruce was feeling, one of the maids said he was…"

She turned to see Bruce in bed, unconscious. The blood drained from her face and she felt her heart drop.

"Miss Wise, this is terribly unprofessional of you to break in to Wayne Manor. I have half a mind to phone the police."

"Alfred, what happened to him?" She couldn't even begin to address the situation she was in seeing Bruce in this state.

"I'm afraid that's none of your business. Now if you would please-"

"Alfred, what has happened to Bruce?" The urgency in her voice grew, tears formed in her eyes. She felt eminent guilt, telling herself if she would have found him she could've saved him.

Alfred studied her, watching her turn almost as pale as Bruce, silent tears running down her face.

"Alfred, I'm not a journalist. I'm an ex-member of the League of Shadows, much like Bruce. I've been watching over him when he goes out at night. I lost track of him last night. Please," her voice cracked, "what happened to him?"

Alfred stared at the young woman, understanding washing over him. "Miss Wise, he was attacked with a powerful hallucinogen. I have a companion synthesizing an antidote as we speak. Why don't we have a cup of tea and speak a little more on your relationship to Bruce, and your past?"

She looked away from Bruce for the first time since seeing him. Alfred watched her with concern and frustration. She nodded silently and, reluctantly, left the room, ready to divulge her life story for the first time in years. Seeing Bruce so weak had her feeling dreadfully week as well, her walls were coming down and Alfred would be the first to meet the woman behind the mask.


End file.
